“Oh. Right.” He ruffled his feathers, which sounded like pebbles tumbling down a slope, then fell quiet again.

She wiped a bit of dirt from the ridges around Turtle’s eyes. He’d begun the trek here months ago, though it wasn’t far from home. He’d pondered each step before laboriously shuffling forward. She should have realized—​

“You know, sometimes when I listen to quiet, I hear all the noises in it, and it’s not quiet at all,” Jacklo said. “There’s the wind and the birds and the bugs and—”

“Jacklo?”

“Sorry.”

She dug the last hole. Turtle had realized on his own that the marks Father had carved on his stone shell to awaken him were fading—​rubbed away by wind, water, and time—​and he’d calculated how far he had to walk in the weeks he had left. He’d made it to the exact place he wanted before he stopped. She only wished she’d understood sooner. Without a stonemason to recarve his marks, Turtle would sleep forever.

“You know what, Mayka?”

Lowering the last plant into the hole, she said, “Yes, Jacklo? What is it now?”

In a tiny voice, he said, “I think I’m scared.”

Mayka looked up at the bird. He was hunched over, with his shoulders up and his head ducked low. His wings were tight against his body. “You are? Why?”

“I don’t want to become silent, like Turtle.”

“Oh.” And like that, her annoyance melted away. This she understood. She’d been trying hard not to think about exactly this for the past week. Me too, she thought, but she didn’t say it out loud. Instead, she held up her hand. “Want me to throw you again?”

His head shot up, and his wings unfurled. “Only if it will cheer you up too.”

“It will,” she promised her friend. “We’ll cheer each other up.”

Pushing himself off the branch, he rolled into a ball as he flew toward her. She caught him, pivoted, and threw him as hard as she could.

He arched up toward the sun and then—​with another “Woo-hoo!”—​flew higher. Circling around, he flew back to her hand. She caught him and threw him again, over and over, until the sun was high overhead and it was midday.

“I think . . . it worked, a little. Thank you, Jacklo.” She smiled at him and realized she hadn’t smiled in several days. Her cheeks felt stiff, as if they’d forgotten how to move without cracking. “Let’s go home.”

He flew in a circle above her and then up toward the trees. Several flesh-and-feathers birds were startled from their branches and also took to the sky, and for a second, Mayka lost track of which one was her friend as he swarmed with them over the pines.

Kneeling next to Turtle once more, she patted his head. “I’ll come visit you again soon.”